


It Was Devastating And It Was Light

by artamisward



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 14:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2814731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artamisward/pseuds/artamisward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short ficlet in which Carmilla finds out the meaning of Christmas</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Was Devastating And It Was Light

Laura stays at Silas for Christmas.

She puts a tree up in a corner of their dorm and decorates it with bright lights and gaudy ornaments.

It’s a bit crooked and it looks like some of its limbs met the wrong side of an ax and it makes the small room even more cramped. And when Carmilla walks past it with raised eyebrows and not a word, Laura huffs but her eyes are smiling as she says very softly, “It’s all I could find on such short notice.”

And that makes it beautiful. Because, Laura hadn’t planned on staying; Carmilla knows the only reason Laura is staying is because of her. And the lopsided tree—that takes up entirely too much space and is only a few steps from looking like Charlie Brown’s tree—becomes special.

At night, with the shroud of darkness covering its ungainliness, the tree, decked and decorated, looks proud and graceful standing with its twinkling lights against the barrage of gloom darkness brings. Its strings of small lights soften everything in the small room, making a thing as simple as illumination magical.

Carmilla watches Laura sleep under the soft light of the tree and she feels her heart tremble in her chest. It trembles with love and awe and a good measure of fear. All things which she hasn’t felt in lifetimes. Her hands gently trace the contours of Laura’s face, and her mind wanders.

_Things which are full of grace… Mary._

_Hail Mary, full of grace_ …Carmilla can hear the bells ringing loudly in her memory of many Christmases gone by. Midnight Mass.

_The Lord is with thee._ She’s back in the second row, head bowed, trying not to choke on the smoke and incense thick in the air as the priests walk up and down the aisles.

_Blessed art thou amongst women._ Carmilla had never thought so, but one did not speak such things, especially not to a vampiric mother who had a strange fascination with the whole situation of Christmas.

_And blessed is the fruit of thy womb._ There she would always cut her eyes to see an odd expression cross her mother’s face.

_Jesus._ The incarnation of perfect love, or so mommy dearest believed.

_Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of death._ If only…

“Amen,” she whispers into the darkness of her room at Silas, not because she’s religious, but because it’s nice to think that someone, somewhere may be making intercession for her black, black soul.

Laura stirs but doesn’t wake. Carmilla watches in fascination as Laura innately seeks out her presence even in sleep. It reminds her of flowers seeking the warmth of the sun.

_Orchids._

The grace, strength and beauty of the mountains. And that’s what Laura is: solid and steadfast. Carmilla bends to place a soft kiss to Laura’s forehead.

_The sea when it is calm._

The serenity and tranquility of an all-powerful element.

_Frost, ruins, virginity._

Holy. Untouched. Sacred.

_Us._

Like stars being born. Full of violent grace that consumes and creates.

_Us._

Like love. Full of forgiving grace that allows a saint to fall for a sinner.

_We are, we are so full of grace we shine._

Like a single candle lit in darkness. It cannot be encroached upon; the darker its surroundings, the brighter its light.

Laura opens her eyes as another kiss lands on her forehead. She gives Carmilla a sleepy smile. Her arms pull the vampire closer and her lips press soft kisses on Carmilla’s cheeks, nose, and mouth.

Carmilla’s heart expands and settles. Laura is full of grace. Laura _is_ grace. She is Carmilla’s saving grace and her intercessor and the lover of her monstrous soul.

And that feels like salvation.

It’s devastating for a creature of darkness to step into a light as bright as Laura’s. But, Carmilla has done it before, and she would do it again a thousand times over.

She isn’t sitting at Mass in the middle of an ornate cathedral; she’s pressed against the warmth of the woman who loves her…pressed heart to heart to the woman whom she loves…and she finally understands the notion of celebrating the birth of a savior.

“Merry Christmas, Laura,” she says reverently because she doesn’t know how to say _thank you for staying and putting up an ugly tree and showing me the meaning of Christmas_.

The arms surrounding Carmilla tighten and she feels inexplicably happy.

“Merry Christmas, Carmilla.”

Carmilla curls into Laura. She closes her eyes and sees the twinkling lights of their tree. They look like the stars in the night sky and their glow wraps the couple in the warmth of heaven’s glory.


End file.
